


poetry for a dreamer

by Fatale (femme)



Series: post episode ficlets [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Drinking to Cope, M/M, post episode season 3 episode 6, secondary: underhill, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14469468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: When Magnus told Alec they literally could not be closer, he was wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong.---Bingo Square: accidental soulbondTeam: Green





	poetry for a dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> sweet fucking god, i'm going to keep writing this premise until i get something i'm happy with.
> 
>  
> 
> if  
> I asked you  
> for this tiny moment  
> to peel off that mask  
> the one you're wearing right now
> 
> would you do it for me?
> 
> \- the dreamer

 

  
When Magnus told Alec they literally could not be closer, he was wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong.

This is worse than the time he accidentally wore Alec’s underwear for an entire day and wondered why the ass was so saggy, worse than when he realized he and Alec couldn’t remember whose toothbrush was whose and found out they had been using the same toothbrush for an entire week.

“It’s not going to last very long,” Catarina says. “Maybe you should be more careful when preparing potions, though.”

She’s unbearably smug and Magnus doesn’t know why he’s friends with her. “He has a lot of hair,” Magnus complains. “How was I supposed to know one of his hairs ended up in the potion?” He does not mention Alec didn’t answer his text message after yet another tense, unhappy morning and Magnus was distracted and a little pissed off.

It’s how, in the middle of their worst fight to date, they ended up accidentally soulbonded.

He’s not sure exactly what a parabatai bond feels like -- the Nephilim are infuriatingly close-lipped about anything unique and possibly useful -- but if it feels anything like this, it fucking sucks. It’s sensory overload like he exists in two bodies simultaneously, and he has to close his eyes and concentrate to shut out the overwhelming feeling of Alec, Alec, Alec in his head.

Alec, who has heartburn again. _Why won’t he stop eating pizza?_ Magnus thinks, feeling cranky. It always gives him indigestion. Alec’s ear itches, and wherever he is, it’s cold. His shoulder hurts from taking one too many repeated hits during fights over the years. Magnus never knew that, and he makes a mental note to brew a healing ointment for it later.

Alec's feet ache, and his heart -- well, it aches, too. And the fact that Magnus himself is the source of that pain is discomfiting. Because if he knew how to fix it, he absolutely would, but he doesn’t. So he spends his time feeling it scratch at the edge of his subconscious like a dog begging to be let back in, powerless and a little afraid.

It doesn’t help that Alec doesn’t seem to be suffering from the same issues. Other than a vague awareness of Magnus, he can’t get a read on him at all. He felt great, apparently, so good he decided to go to the Institute and check up on progress for hunting down Jace. Of course, it could be the fact that he doesn’t want to spend any more time in an apartment that isn’t his home.

Catarina has a theory why their bond is so unequal, but she won’t tell him.

She says, “It’ll last 48 hours, max. You know this, Magnus.” 

He does. He just wanted someone to talk to. “I know,” he agrees.

“You and Alec will make it through this. You guys are made of pretty strong stuff.”

Are they? A week ago, he would have said yes, of course they are. Now, he’s not so sure.

“You stay here, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Not pizza,” Magnus practically begs.

 

\---

 

Maybe it’s the accidental soulbond or maybe it’s that Magnus just plain _misses_ Alec, but after three unanswered texts, he swallows his pride and portals himself to the Institute.

Underhill, the chief of security, recognizes him and passes him through. “He’s in Ops,” Underhill says. “I can go get him if you’d like some privacy? I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you.” Underhill’s eyes are entirely too understanding, and Magnus pushes down a flash of irritation that Alec’s been talking about their problems to someone else. After all, he just called Catarina over specifically so he could unload on her; it would be petty to deny Alec the same.

They stop just over the threshold.

Alec walks across the room to join Izzy at a computer, and Magnus watches Underhill’s eyes carefully track Alec. His gaze isn’t calculating or hungry, just a little tired.

“Did he ever tell you Nephilim only love once?”

“Is that true?” Magnus asks curiously. He’d heard the rumor, of course, but had believed it to be a fairytale like so many secrets whispered around the Shadow World.

“Who really knows?” Underhill says. “Maybe it can happen, but I’ve never heard of anyone of our kind that’s fallen in love more than once. Maybe it’s because we die young, too soon to find love again. Maybe it’s possible. I don't know whether I hope it is or it isn’t.”

When he looks back at Magnus, his eyes are wide and sad, and Magnus touches his elbow. “I'm sorry for whoever you lost,” he says.

Underhill nods once. “Hold onto each other. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

As if noticing them for the first time, Alec glances back, eyes drawn suspiciously like he knows they’re talking about him, and Magnus gives him a tense smile. If anything, his eyebrows lower further, but he turns back around and Magnus studies him, the gentle way he touches Isabelle’s shoulder, the preciseness of his words and stance, his body unknowingly bowed protectively over her's.

And doesn’t that just encapsulate everything Alec is?

“Yeah, I know,” Magnus says, gaze never leaving Alec.

  
\---

 

After trying and failing to get Alec to leave, Alec promises to come by later once all his work is done. The thing is, it’s the nature of their work to never be done. If they don’t start making time for each other, then it’ll be too easy to let irritation fester into resentment, rotting away the very core of what makes them work. Magnus knows this for a fact. Nephilim may only love once, if that’s even true, but Magnus has no such qualms and he's seen relationships dissolve and crumble beneath the same very large obstacles they're facing now.

Just when he's about ready to go and drag Alec back home, he hears the jangle of Alec at the front door, coming in and shucking off his coat and boots. Magnus can follow his progress through the house by sound or by feeling if he closes his eyes and concentrates on seeing through Alec’s eyes. He’s surprised by what Alec sees: an eclectic room, a little eccentric but elegant, and not a trace of himself.

Magnus rubs his face as Alec makes his way to the kitchen where Magnus is whipping up Chicken Basquaise. Kind of. He’s mostly magicking it into existence and drinking wine.

“Smells good,” Alec says. He still holds himself stiffly, and Magnus hates the mess that’s sprung up overnight between them, this unbreachable tangle of thorns and vines. For all that they’re six feet away from each other, they might as well be on opposite poles.

“I thought you might want something other than pizza for dinner.”

Alec grimaces. “Felt that, huh?”

“I feel everything you feel, at least for another 26 hours.”

“Well, I can feel that’s not your first drink.” Alec grabs the wine bottle and pours himself a generous glass. “I should probably catch up.”

Magnus doesn’t mind drinking the pain away; he’s spent centuries doing it, but escaping his problems goes against Alec’s intrinsic nature. It makes Magnus feel a little sick that they've arrived at this place so soon.

“I’m not even hungry,” Magnus says, unhappily watching Alec drink. He takes the pot off the stove to cool.

“Neither am I,” Alec says. In the short time they’ve been talking, Alec’s drained his glass, shoulders slumping.

“Then let's go to sleep,” Magnus suggests on his way to the bedroom, Alec following silently behind.

 

\---

 

In bed, Magnus tosses and turns, sheets twisted around his legs, unable to get comfortable. It’s too hot; the bedding clings to his skin unpleasantly.

Beside him, Alec lies completely still, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Magnus can tell he’s not asleep. He flicks his wrist and the lights turn on. “Can we talk?”

“I feel like we’ve said everything we can about it,” Alec says, not opening his eyes. At an impasse, Magnus drops his mental shields and purposefully reaches out through the bond, where Alec is ready and waiting and so very solid. Alec had described Magnus as a kind of ephemeral tickle on the cusp of his mind, not unlike Jace, and that was Magnus’ theory why Alec was able to compartmentalize his bond so well. He was already used to sharing the space in his head with another being, so what was one more?

But given the openness of Alec with him, he’s beginning to suspect the imbalance lies in their willingness to share themselves.

Now, he feels the buzz of Alec’s thoughts, his worry about Jace; he feels the strength of the runes on his body and the tired muscles beneath that. Traveling down, Magnus gets to the dark tangled mess of feelings in Alec's chest, far more complicated and sad than he expected.

He's really fucking lousy at apologies, can barely bring himself to say it after several lifetimes of being sorry for his very existence, but Magnus made assumptions, misjudged, then got angry over something that was never really there. He owes Alec this much, at least: “I’m sorry,” Magnus says softly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“As much as I’d like to believe that’s true, I’ve done plenty wrong in my life,” Magnus says. “But mostly, I’m just sorry you’re hurting.” He always has been, but to feel it in his _own_ chest, the fear pulsing low in his belly, the strangled words unable to leave his lips, is a very different animal. He thought he’d understood what Alec was angry about, but this terror and pain are so far away from petty jealousy, it leaves Magnus a little stunned.

Alec's eyes open slowly, and he rolls over to face Magnus, his runes stark shapes marking up his body, white scars dotting his pale skin, all reminders of a fragile life and dangerous occupation.

“It’s not long enough,” Alec says, and through the bond, Magnus can feel him hesitantly reaching out.

For the first time, Magnus lets him in.

“We have right now,” Magnus says and presses a kiss to his shoulder. It’s all he has to offer: himself, the next sixty years, the hundred years of sorrow that’ll follow, and a permanent place in Magnus’ scarred, faded heart. He hopes it’s enough for Alec; it _has_ to be enough.

Alec looks hard at him, and Magnus wonders what secrets he’s unearthing.

“Okay,” Alec says, making up his mind and reaching forward to pull Magnus down on top of him. Nothing is fixed, but for a split-second, the dust settles and Magnus can peer into the future and see one for them. 

Alec’s heartbeat superimposes over his, and he honestly can’t tell where Alec’s body ends and his begins. Then Magnus makes himself stop thinking entirely and lets himself sink into the moment, for however long it lasts.

 

 


End file.
